Thirteenth Street
by Archer of Ecclesia
Summary: 'Twenty minutes of waiting was normally nothing to Charlotte. But in Castlevania, Johnathan could slowly be bleeding to death...' Just some fluff. Whether it's enough for a normal person to choke on, don't know.


**A:N/: I've decided. I'll do one more chapter in Groundhog's Day for those of you who like my RotG stuff, though it's just an alternate ending. But this just popped into my head, and I had to write it.**

** The 'Poe' book is my original idea, by the way. Just thought it'd be awesome to have something like that in Char's arsenal.**

** If you like this, stay tuned! I had another Char/John idea.**

** Disclaimer: I don't own this, Konami does. Bite me. Suck my blood. Just expect to be hit in the face, vampire or not :).**

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Castlevania.

A large castle that had jutted up out of the ground in historic Transylvania, a looming prison to thousands upon thousands of souls of damned zombies, cursed bats, and even the occasional severed Medusa head.

At the time, a young witch stood, gazing at the stronghold of evils from a distance. Of sorts. She and Johnathan had just entered the painting titled 'Thirteenth Street' and had been training to slay the creature that was guarding the painting.

The two of them had no idea what it was, but Charlotte was hearing some eerie howls off in the distance...

The sorceress was then gazing back at the crudely drawn painting of a dark castle, with a full moon suspended in the sky, three bats hovering by Dracula's Throne Room of the castle.

And her patience was ticking away, a living time bomb. In her arms was a thick tome of a book entitled 'Poe' with nothing more than Edgar Allan Poe's unabridged works.

Her personal favorite was "The Pit and the Pendulum" which just happened to be the book she was currently reading (which was possible, since her sorceress touch was the only thing that allowed her to open the book and not be charred by a torch that Fortunato wielded in "Cask of Amontillado". It was, technically, _her _book, so she told it when it could kill something or not). Or, glancing at, more other.

She would only occasionally peek down at the story on a man's torment, yet then she would look back up, down the long hallway of railroad tracks, her eyes hovering over the corpse of the dead creatures she had killed, chew on her lip, then go back to reading.

Where the hell was he?

Johnathan was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.

The two had set up a date... er, um, mission to head down to the Nest of Evil exactly on the fifth chime of the humongous clock in Death's Tower.

Twenty minutes normally was nothing to Charlotte (yet not so much to the young Morris), but in the great Castlevania, twenty minutes could be crucial.

He could be only minutes away from her, being eaten by the Ghoul King that he was convinced he had killed, or slowly bleeding to death in a pool of his own blood from a misfired ricochet rock.

Or, on a lighter note, (Charlotte smirked upon thinking this), he could be searching frantically for an eyeball of his that he had shot out with that stupid paper airplane of his.

"That's it!" Charlotte shouted with a huff.

The witch slammed her enormous book shut, not caring to bookmark her page, and began to quickly rushed toward the end of the tunnel.

Not fast enough...

Charlotte quickly clutched the pendant around her neck, the one that Johnathan had found for her. It was a simple, golden charm with a sapphire lodged in the once-molten metal that the older slayer had thieved off a dead succubus.

It was a given that Johnathan never knew that Charlotte never went on a mission on her own without wearing it. After all, it was nothing more than a weak accessory that would help someone cast a spell without using up as much energy as normal, but to the sarcastic young woman, it was a treasure that she held close to her heart.

In more ways that one, since she always had it hidden behind her shirt when Johnathan was around.

"Speed up!" Her voice rang through the abandoned halls of the subway, and in a blur of green winds, she took off down the hallway once more, flying faster than sound.

It less than a blink, Charlotte was in the room with the angel clutching an orb to its chest, and for a brief moment, she placed her hand on the marble dress of the Godsend.

After she felt her wounds heal, Charlotte took off once more, flying up the stairs and into the marketplace of Thirteenth Street.

Few troubles dared to step out in front of the enraged witch, who's normally blue eyes were stained red with anger and malice.

The Aliorumnus seemed to be the only creatures that gave her any trouble; they were, after all, Charlotte's rivals, as Charlotte was a witch that fought for the good of mankind, while they were banished by a king for practicing their beliefs.

So, naturally, Charlotte left their burnt corpses behind as she trudged through the painting, only having to stop at an angel statue once more, and that was after she checked the bakery room to make sure that Johnathan wasn't pigging out on the cakes left in the bakery.

What she _found _was a bunch of rippers that ended up tearing a hole through her new corset.

Yet, now, as she dashed down into the underground passage by the boss room, her anger was slowly melting and forming into fear.

She kept telling herself that Johnathan was too oblivious – and stupid – to know that he was dying, and that he was still fighting on, refusing to be blessed by the statue and continually chugging down potion after tonic after potion.

Only that hypothesis of her's was beginning to melt.

She was now facing a ghoul, and with a quick swing of her book, the pages flew open and a torch burst outward, burning the bloody zombie in the neck, causing it to shriek in pain and stagger backwards.

Another one of the devil spawns began to crawl out of the cracks in the ground, covered in maggots and blood, and with a quick kick from a spiked combat boot, she jerked free of its grasp and continued through the haunted corridors.

The witch's little hope for him to be fine she originally had was now gone. It had disappeared faster than Charlotte would be able to rip of Johnathan's manhood when she found him.

If she found him...

Charlotte growled to herself, a shiver running through her spine and shaking the very foundation of her body. She jerked her blue jacket over her platinum corset, making a personal note to herself to change into something warmer later.

There were only three rooms that she hadn't searched yet (that she knew of. There were likely more rooms behind the boss's door, though it had thankfully been sealed when she passed by it. She scolded herself; Johnathan wasn't _that _stupid). The two rooms ahead of her and where the strongest creature of the painting dwelled, and the possible rooms beyond it.

Just as she was about to break down and start dissolving into a puddle of tears for her surely-dead best friend, she heard an odd sound in the castle.

Laughter.

The only creatures she had heard laughingin the freaking hellhole were the narcissistic ones as they landed a hit, the pathetic little beings that were forcing themselves into a fit because they just knew they were screwed, and that really, _really_ arrogant one as he stood over the corpses he had just defeated.

In other words, if the latter was correct, Johnathan was fighting a demon in the next room.

With one final curse to the Morris under her breath, she clutched her weapon closer to her breasts, and with a warrior's yell, charged into the room.

Which was occupying the being that she desperately wanted to kill and kiss at the same time.

He would be much more cooperative if he was dead...

"JOHNATHAN MORRIS!" Her voice had never been louder. Standing in the middle of the room was Johnathan, as he stood gloating over a dead demon body, a long, sharp spear twirling between his fingers.

Yet that look melted off his face as he turned to fully face Charlotte. She blushed slightly, as the neck of his shirt had been slashed halfway down his shirt, and it hung open like a jacket. Though the witch quickly dismissed her infatuation and began to scream once more.

"How _dare _you leave me waiting in front of the entrance to _hell _for thirty minutes ALONE, leaving me to think you had become some sort of fancy play-toy for the liliths!" She had said a few other words, though Johnathan found them highly dirty, especially for her mouth.

"I-I-" Johnathan was hardly able to stutter a single letter once or twice before a spell blasted him in the center of the chest.

Charlotte stood below him, lifting him off the ground in an eddying whirlwind, her eyes practically flaming with her anger. "You could have become part of a compost pile for unes! You could have been being seduced by a succubus! You could have been part of a shooting range for the snipers! You could have been _dead_!"

Johnathan's head flopped downward in shame, his eyes seemingly glued to the floor. Each sentence she spat was another heart string of his ripped out of his chest.

"Why! How hard was it for you to check back in and say, 'Hey, Charlotte! I know you were worried sick, so I came back to make sure that you knew I wasn't _dead_!'? Would it have really been that hard? Are you that stupid?"

Johnathan sighed. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

"Sorry? Sorry! Ha! You're sorry. So, the brain cells I just lost while I was going _insane _while looking for you will just pop back into my head!" Charlotte screeched as her spell began to weaken. She sighed, a small tear beginning to form in her left eye.

Turning on her heel, almost as if she was about to leave the room, she whispered something once more.

"Pardon?" Johnathan squeaked.

Well, it wasn't a squeak, since he was a man that hadn't even talked like a mouse _before _puberty, but it was too high to count as a whisper and to quiet to count as...

Ah, what the hell. It was a squeak. He was scared of her and that vile temper of her's, but more so, it felt as if he had been petrified by a Medusa head at the very _thought _of hurting her.

"I said..." She sighed once more, and before Johnathan could comprehend her first two words, a rant began to spill out of her mouth.

"I said you are so selfish! What good is a demon head mounted on your wall as a stupid little trophy as compared to Dracula having your entire mangled corpse hanging up in his tapestry room? Can you imagine what that would have done to Vincent or Eric or the twins? You're not the only person in this castle, you know!" Charlotte paused during her rant to draw in a shaky breath.

Johnathan noticed that the fleeting tear in her eye had turned into a torrent that was drenching her face. "Can you imagine what that would have done to _me_?" This part of the conversation had suddenly turned awkward for him.

The freaking love of his life was beginning to break down and cry, or so it appeared. Though she was no longer splitting the sound barrier with her remarks, she _was _splitting his heart in half. "John, you're so stupid sometimes. I wonder how I lo–" she stopped.

Not in such a way that she needed to take in another breath, but in the way to bite her tongue off for her stupidity.

"You wonder how you what?" Johnathan wasn't entirely oblivious. The little part of his brain that hadn't been clogged full with facts that he found interesting and stuff that Charlotte had forced him to learn (it wasn't _that _important to know that only the yellow Medusa heads petrified. The blue ones were killed, too, so what did it matter?) was beginning to work.

There weren't that many options as to what she could have said.

She lo–

Lost something?

No, that was impossible. The very few things she misplaced were either found in her books as bookmarks or in Vincent's shop, where they normally stocked their spare items.

She lo-

"You... love? Me?" The vampire slayer whispered.

Charlotte said nothing. Her eyes were distant, the blue eyes clogged full of rainclouds, the storm within her beautiful irises still continuing to leak out of her eyes. She only nodded, a slow, stiff motion of her neck. She only slightly lifted her head, ducked her chin down once, then returned it to its original position.

For the first time that Johnathan had seen it, Charlotte's shoulders sagged and her back took on a slight slouch. Her pride was marred.

"Char," he slowly began to approach her.

"Don't. I hate it when you do that," her tongue had grown a stinger that rivaled a vice beetle's poison.

"Come on, look at me." Johnathan had suddenly popped Charlotte's personal space bubble for when she was ticked.

Crush or not, it was no excuse for him to touch her right now.

Biting her lip, she glanced up, seeing his perfectly-stunning eyes staring into her's. He slowly leaned closer...

Just as the two were about to share their first moment – and not just their first moments together but their first moments period – another ear-splitting howl ripped through the night, echoing into the underground chamber.

And it wasn't just the boss-creature of the area; the freak also had its' countless underlings howling along in a bone-chilling requiem for their fallen brethren. One of which, a vapula, had just burst into the room, snarling.

"Shall we finish this later?" Johnathan asked, almost dying of embarrassment.

"Maybe. After you and I have a little chat about your wandering-off issue," she nearly hissed the last four words, but there was a playful glint in her eye. She pushed away from him with a slight wink, cracked her spellbook open to the vengeful murder of Monstressor.

With a yell, she seized after the vapula, ready to make it pay for her loss.

Behind the furious young lady, Johnathan smiled.

** A:N: Cheesy. Lovey-dovey. Don't expect much like this from me. I will, however, post another Char/John fic that I had an idea for.**

** No sneak peeks, sorry ;). You'll just have to follow me...**

*** freakinghinthint* I need people who like me if you want me to keep writing.**


End file.
